If Pigs Could Fly
by Roseability
Summary: There's only one word written on Kururugi Sana's face and it's called scandal. InuiEijiOC
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis.** This fanfiction is going to combine two Seigaku members... And review if you hate/love the OC. I personally like her, because I just love reading stories about geniuses, so I am trying to see how far I can go with this. Also, tell me a sport that the OC should play, okay? It can't be tennis because that's... just too redundant. It doesn't matter to me if it's American or Japanese, since in fanfiction you can do anything, basically.

I'm kinda depressed because I haven't any ideas for oneshots... just OC's. TT.TT. I can't write yaoi because I don't have much of a clue to keep them all in character, either... (wind blows)

* * *

**---Act One---  
**

**-Chapter One: The Calm Before the Storm: I Ignore the Subtle Hints that my Mother and Father Keep Telling Me-**

_Genius- the most under appreciated person on the planet._

Today was the first day of summer vacation. While most unruly juveniles I knew would squirrel away the precious days by eating ice cream or going to swim in the local pool, I preferred to while the hours by inspecting the latest batch of pests my mother had whined to my father, saying that he should call the local termite control center. I, however, opted to kill them myself with a big can of ammonia so that I wouldn't have to cringe while a big mustachioed man came up to our driveway with a menacing smirk on his face to murder our oh-so compassionate neighbors.

"Hello, my friends," I murmured to my insect companions. They are so interesting. They don't have to worry about who's going out with who, what they have to do, and finally what they are actually doing. They just... panic in the blaring sunlight. While I admire them for being senseless, I feel that they are missing out on life. Too bad they have to die.

"Now, I have to say goodbye," I said, wiping an imaginary tear from my eye. Then I sprayed, watching the white grubs writhe in agony.

* * *

**The day before: **

I have been accused of being anal retentive, an over achiever, and a compulsive perfectionist, like they are bad things. My disposition typically is described like this, only because I am merely a genius. Unfortunately, this kind of attitude seems to precede me wherever I go, so I have to deal with it.

Today I was anxious to escape the hysteria of the crowd filled with testosterone-fueled boys and the bento confessions of many love-struck girls in high school. Me being three years younger than the seniors, I chose the long route to avoid the crepes truck and all the lovey-dovey mush you see at the local park.

"How was your day, Sana?" My mother asks this question everyday. I always replied, "Fine, only I had to suffer a session with stupid people who didn't bother to check their English accents."

I am a certified translator in both English and Japanese. I had to take an Internet course for this, although I was only twelve at the time. Luckily my mother and I share the same name.

All the students look so much older than me. It is hard to believe that I will become a senior this year, and possibly go to college if they allow fifteen year olds to do so. When I look back at my childhood, it doesn't seem so long ago. Yoshiko, the old nun who lives next door, claims it's because its a state of mind. My father, however, insists that it is because I am surrounded by childish hijinks, such as the tennis ball that flew into our window and smashed into the glass. _Whatever._

"How many people said hi to you today?" asked my mother as I sipped a glass of ice tea and removed the _odango_ from a nearby side dish.

I proudly held up five fingers. "Tsuyoshi-sensei, Hikosho-sensei, Ishi-senpai, Sora-sensei, and Kiho-sensei. They said congratulations on my next article in the National Geographic magazine. It's going to be on sell this July."

Ishi-senpai is this year's number one in the whole high school with the highest grades. I admire her immensely and she has never failed to return my hellos when I wave to her in the hallway. She said to me, "Sana, stay cool, okay?"

I spent all of geometry class analyzing her message. She could have meant the sweltering summers that Tokyo is famous for, or, as I like to think, she could have been referring to as when they say, "She's so cool." Therefore, she is implying that I am one of the cool people, and I should remain so.

Walking over to Yoshiko's, the nun and also my best friend, she greeted me with a platter of cookies and a strawberry milkshake, even though I already had a snack at home. I happily took a fish shaped cracker and munched. The salty sodium goes nutritionally well with the natural sweetness of strawberries, and plus I think it is delicious. She was wrestling with a giant rubbery ball when she slipped and fell. The old woman is interested in yoga and I wasn't much concerned even while she signaled for help.

"Thanks, Sana. I was having issues with that crazy training."

"Why do it if you're having 'issues' with it, Shi-chan?" I asked her. We are on less formal terms, but when my parents invite her for a barbeque, I am forced to call her as "Baa-san". I think it was plenty polite, but Yoshiko was enraged.

**---**

_"I am not that old! I still have many years to go! Look at Ryusaki-san! She's coaching the local men's Seigaku's tennis team! Don't call me 'Baa-san'! Call me Yoshiko!" _

_"Calm down, Shi-chan! You're spilling the teriyaki beef bites! Oh no..."_

_"My dress!"_

_"My **hair!!!**" _

---

Since then we only invited her to a local movie theater. At least nobody has to talk there.

We spent the rest of the afternoon playing two handed bridge. I won most of the time, and I also won a handful of frozen M&M's and buttery popcorn. Shi-chan used to work as a missionary; many of her fellow co-workers went to America, and the rest were history.

At dinnertime I excused myself since I wasn't that hungry. My father looked at me strangely and said, "Masaka! Don't tell me. It's your summer homework, right? Am I right?"

Just because I stayed awake for 49 hours to solve an extremely complicated math problem, my parents claim I have an unhealthy obsession with extra credit. They also use it as an excuse to make me do "fun things." At this point, I bring up the fact that I can do a complete cartwheel, and that I prefer barbeque potato chips over sour cream, and also that I like Charlie's Angels, the English version over the Japanese dub. They usually will subdue at this point, but if they don't, I will resort to emergency bribery. Mr. Potato Head is in my mother's possession, and the butterfly kite I got for my tenth birthday is in my father's list of "stress-free hobbies." Call me a negotiator.

"No.That's because I've already completed all of the assignments that sensei told us to do in school." I smiled weakly, then began to stuff my face with rice and whatnot. After all, they can hardly mistake me as a fifteen year-old teenager, right?

Mother relaxed, then tensed up again, very quickly. She would make an excellent schizophrenic. I heard that they pay big money to see something like that on television in America. As model psychologists.

She said casually, "You're so smart, Sana. Perhaps you make friends with Kikumaru, that nice boy. I heard he's having problems with his schoolwork."

I nearly choked on a piece of grilled octopus. Just thinking about him gave me the creeps. _That nice boy_ had nearly ruined my face by accidentally hitting a... _merely ostentatious_ acrobatic tennis ball. Since then, we were fine with just "Let's forget about the whole thing and _you too_" kind of deal. I'm what you call an independent person. I don't hang around other students.

Changing the subject quickly, I said, "Say, I heard that the melons were on sale today! I like cantaloupes as well, but you can't beat a ripe watermelon!"

Mother frowned. "Sana, did you forget that I am allergic to watermelon?"

"Then what about honeydew?"

She pointed her chopsticks at me, like two stick daggers facing an bloody kill. "I don't like honeydew."

"What about cantaloupe?"

* * *

Last night, Yoshiko paid me a call. She's been doing that ever since her monkey, Dottie, died. It was her favorite thing in the whole world since "a man in a yellow suit" gave it to her. He mumbled something about, "George grew up, found a lady monkey, and then his curiosity got the better of him. He died in a car crash." That was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, and he couldn't bear the pain of looking at another monkey, so she got it for free. 

Yoshiko and Dottie lived together for twenty years. I had often tried teaching the ape sign language, like the famous gorilla Coco I read about in an article, but it appears that she cannot comprehend the logistics of finger shaping. Yoshiko smiled and said that it was because that "We already have a genius in the family, it's obvious that we don't need another one." At this I glared at Shi-chan, and retorted that if they didn't need another one, was it a hint that I was a bother to the family? And she responded by saying, "No, but think if Dottie was." I laughed later, imagining the chaos that would happen if Dottie was an intelligent monkey. She's good enough already, even if she's not smart. What I really can't stand is somebody that didn't do their homework right.

"You know," she said, in that slow drawl of hers, "You don't have to spend all your time with me. You should make more friends."

I huffed. Why is everybody concerned that I don't have a companion my age?

True, I do have those occasional pangs when I walk down the corridors and there are students everywhere, having a secret to share, them whispering, not including me in there little band of people. And yes, I hadn't really experienced, you know, a sleepover, but I always compensated it that I wouldn't have to sleep on the floor. I think that it's bad for my neck. And then there's the issue of toothpaste and towels. I hardly think I should go into detail for _that._

"I don't need another friend, Shi-chan. I've already planned out my goals." And it's true. I've written and mapped out my future for the next _fifteen_ years.

"Perhaps you could try veering off the road once in a while," she suggested mildly. "After all, who knows about the things you could find out? You might be pleasantly surprised."

I stifled a laugh as I said goodbye to the lucid old woman. Everyone knows that the shortest distance from two points is a line. Why would I take any other route?

---

* * *

**Author's Note:** My brain is shouting at me, saying, "Quality is better than quantity!" but I had this idea. As a result, I couldn't sleep at all... Well, Sana Kururugi is one interesting character and I'd like to explore her more further. And to keep you people guessing, I won't tell you the other Seigaku member, because I think it's also too obvious. She has to do something with Eiji, of course, and she has to... well, tune into the next chappie! **_And review. Reviews are the perspective of a reader that doesn't know what's going to happen,_** but maybe some of you out there are pretty good guessers, huh? 

Oh, and how many of you have seen the Nationals OVA number fifteen? I'd like your opinion about it, because I may think about a Fuji and Shiraishi story. You never know, I'm very crazy like that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis. **I realized yesterday that I was an inconsistent updater. Gomen, gomen. I really hate summer homework...  
One of my fellow readers suggested that I put the genius girl in lacrosse. I did some research on it, but I don't think that would work out because one, there's not much potential for future interactions between Eiji (although it is a very similar sport to tennis, I must admit) and two, I haven't played it before. But I do appreciate the effort. Arigato gozaimasu!

* * *

**---Act One, Scene One--- **

**-Chapter Two: My Mother Gets Revenge for Me Putting Her in Thirty-Six Hours of Labor-**

The title explains all. I am forced to go on the volleyball team. I thought that it was because of me and Eiji's situation, but in fact it was because my parents went to the school counselor. In an effort to give me a more "normal childhood" they thought it was good idea to sign me up for something I am not even remotely good at.

"You want me to WHAT?!?" I had said this many times and was afraid I might lose my sense of hearing like the famous composer Beethoven.

My mother looked tired and my father hid his sneaky nose in the local newspaper. In fact, he was getting ready to go to work, the reason in which I was being a stubborn donkey. I think he needs more aspirin than the medicine cabinet in the master bedroom offers.

Frustrated, I immediately called Yoshiko for some sympathy and was shocked to hear that she was the base of this disaster. I cannot believe she has turned into a Benedict Arnold, the famous traitor of the American Revolution where he was a brilliant Patriot but fought for the Englanders because of bribery. I wondered. Perhaps my parents had threatened her to get into a nursing home? Or maybe they told her that they were going to be sell me into the National Hockey League with a job as a spare puck. Nothing my parents would do would surprise me. I am completely sure of that fact.

Volleyball aside, I am glad that three days of the week are completely empty. I hoped that I could finish at least three hundred digits of Pi, though the famous mathematician Elaine Gottsmager has done five hundred in a mere three hours. And then I had plans to learn how to bake things in the oven. Yoshiko claims that she can make a butterscotch frosted cake from scratch, and brought one yesterday to prove it, but I quickly spotted the pink cardboard box with the girly-icon label of Keiko's Pastries For All Occasions at the back of her SmartCar.

Eiji came over to our house today. I was forced to entertain him while their parents took an insanely long amount of time to discuss "issues." It is no secret that they want to set us up. The problem is the fact that I cannot stand him. And on my research of body language, it also appears that he isn't so hot for that idea either.

"Nerd, nya."

"Geek."

"Idiot, nya."

"Repetitive evil red-haired cat."

The adults glared at us. We gave them a painful smile, then went back to staring daggers while they sipped their tea and ate sushi.

His plate is filled with anago. Mine is filled with red snapper. Nobody dares to touch it, because only an idiot, the opposite of what I am, would do that.

Our insulting match record is twenty five minutes and thirty three seconds. By the end, Yoshiko had to stuff _dim sum_ in our mouths so that she could watch the latest version of _Jeopardy! _subbed. She loves yelling at the television. I thought that she was deluded. Eiji thinks it's magical and has a crush on the prize lady. He claims that the fish net stockings is what turns any male on. Yeah, right.

Finally, the condescending voice of my father booms on all of us. "Right. Let's have one final toast in honor of..." He struggled to find an apt subject of the speech he was supposed to make. "In honor of... sushi."

I choked. My father has taken "artistic liberties" with wine extravaganzas before, such as toasts in honor of Eiji's lopsided teddy bear, his apple toothpaste and Yoshiko's pet monkey, but this was just plain ridiculous. Who ever made up an cantata about sushi? I know Johann Sebastian Bach made a special case for a piece of music dedicated to coffee. But literature for sushi? Fat chance.

Yoshiko was all for it though. She said, "Ooh, sounds fun. What kind of sushi?"

"Ootoro. The great tuna shall live in all our brains 'till this day. I dedicate this fine glass of wine to ootoro sushi!"

It's amazing that I go out in public with my parents. Tuna?!?

Kikumaru was sniggering, and I didn't have the heart to extricate a well-aimed kick at his behind. So I had to contend with a death glare.

"Shut up." I muttered. Even though my dad was embarrassing, I still had to defend the family line.

"No way," he replied. "Ootoro sushi? God, your father is _hil_ar_ious_, nya nya nyaaaa!"

I hate the way how that boy uses his cat alibi to irritate me. Science can't explain it, also like the Band-Aid he _always_ is wearing. I peeled it off one day when he was sleeping on the couch and guess what? He wore for _nothing_! There wasn't a single scratch anywhere on his face. Does he wear it to look cool? I haven't a clue at all.

Once again, I am forced to realize that data is not everything.

"Oh, yeah, Sana." Eiji said to me seriously. Now _that_ was startling. He's always so happy. On a sugar high is one way to describe it, though I prefer the words _hyperactive personality disorder._

"What?"

"Have fun. Volleyball, eh?"

I wanted to punch that infuriating boy with a powerful uppercut, but Mom says that if I do that she won't let me watch R-rated movies. Needless to say, I have done this countless times. Eighty percent of the time, I regret it deeply because I could have knocked him out with an added kick for good measure.

He stuck out his tongue and left with his parents. I swore to myself that I would get even. Yes. I would definitely get even.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I just wanted to convey the relationship between Sana and Eiji because... well... ah, I don't have a reason. This is going to be very fun indeed, peoples. And review. I don't know what you readers are thinking, but I wanna know if you think Sana's a Mary Sue. Because the reason I wanted to write so many Original Characters is because I don't like Mary Sues. At all.

Dim sum is a kind of meat dumpling they have in China. I eat loads of them at home. They're pretty good, depending on who makes them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I really don't own Prince of Tennis.** Oh, to those who reviewed, school for me is this week, (I'm in a rush to get second/third chapters for all my stories) so I'm sorry about all the grammar mistakes and stuff like that. (But it would really help if you guys would point out where!) My usual editor (read my profile) is at school at the moment, so you can see.. heh. And I really don't have anything against volleyball, either. I just suck at it. So does Sana.

One of you _very_ observant readers asked me whether it was based on Millicent Min. **Yes, it is**. If you have not read it please do, because it is truly a great book. I did this quick-ish fanfiction because the fact that Eiji and Stanford Wong were just so similar. They're not particularly smart, but they try their hardest at everything they do. And if you _have_ read the book, no, Eiji does not fall in love with "Emily Ebers." Once you know what I'm actually talking about, you get a Mint Milano (cookie) !!! Or an album of Mongo Bongo's Greatest Hits. And maybe a free baking soda coupon.

* * *

**--Act One, Scene Two--**

**---The Reason Why Geniuses aren't Suppposed to Play Volleyball---**

"So kind of you to do the dishes, Sana. And I _love_ the way you oxidized the shower canister. But you still have to do recreation." Mom said as we were sitting on the sidewalk, licking on frozen lemon ice pops.

I gnashed my teeth when I heard my mother bashing away at my voice of reason. I don't _want_ to play volleyball, I shouldn't _have _to play volleyball, and I have utterly _no use_ for volleyball. After all, what is so interesting and knowledgeable about whacking a 3.725 ounce ball over a net? But nooooooo, Mommy says this and the independent daughter has to follow suit.

I did some research about the sport of volleyball and how it came from America. And as a result, I have less motivation to try something new, and even less when I found out the schedule.

Monday- Volleyball

Tuesday- Volleyball

Wednesday- Volleyball

Thursday- Volleyball

Friday- Volleyball

Saturday- Volleyball

Sunday- Burning ants. Plotting road graphs. Brewing tea. But thankfully not the v-word.

* * *

It is officially two and fifty five minutes after my first attempt at "recreation." I hurt all over. 

It started out fine. I've done P.E. occasionally (reluctantly) , and volleyball was a sport that I had to endure anyway.

Well, I aced a serve, but the opposing team returned it and guess what? IT HIT MY HEAD!!

I must have made a funny noise or something because everyone started laughing. Like they ever would muster another snort if I hurled a fifty pound sledgehammer.

Somebody thought it would also be funny if they did it again.

Ouch. My leg.

Ouch. My eye.

Ouch. Arm.

Ouch. Both cheeks of the bottom.

Soon I was a laughingstock, target practice. The numerous injuries hurt, but the fact that they wanted to do this hurt me even more.

You know whenever your parents tell you that "This hurts me more than it hurts you"? Well, it's true. All those adages that Yoshiko told me, "Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me" aren't true at all. I didn't cry at the end of that torturous session. I couldn't.

I don't cry at all.

I never cry. Geniuses aren't _allowed_ to cry. They're so damn perfect that they have to put on a straight face out in public. In private, it's the same thing. Character, discipline, virtues of the good morals. Acing exams. Skipping grades. Socially awkward. Typical traits.

This kind of thing always disappoints me because you'd think they'd know better than to pick on unarmed victims. I don't know what kind of ambitions people my age have, but, and I'll tell you this, I wasn't an idiot. There's a stupid genius, there's an insane/brilliant genius, and then there's me, a genius who never fits in.

Okay, _yes_, most of the time I don't even bother finding friends. But there's a small part of me, locked away in the heart that wants something to be right. It's not the same kind of right where you get a complicated math equation right. There's no words for it. It doesn't need explanations.

Mom picked me up after that. She asked me, "How was it, honey?"

I forced to maintain a fake cheery smile. "It was great."

I once read a book about the sophisticated culture of France. They said there were all colors of lies. I think this one would be called a pink lie, to keep your parents from worrying too much about you. I've only said two other lies this year. One was a white lie, and another was a blue lie.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Is volleyball really 'my thing'?"

She studied my face and my plain black bangs hard. When she does that I know she will tell me the truth.

"Yes and no."

I sighed. When she does that it means that she doesn't have the right answer for me.

The lingering feeling was washed away quickly with some oatmeal cookies. I ate the whole platter with no consideration of others.

My mother watched me in morbid fascination as I devoured the crispy confection.

"Are you fine?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Mom, there's _nothing wrong_ with me, okay?" We both know that's a lie.

"Sana..."

I watched her intently. Maybe she would catch the hurting flash in my eyes and tell me that I wouldn't have to go to volleyball again. Maybe she would understand what I was going through and say...

"Are you in love?"

I choked on a raisin.

"NO!"

Damn the race of teenagers. They have to deal with every little social awkward situations under the socially awkward sun.

I popped the rest of the cookie in my mouth and slammed the door. Later, I began writing responses in case that somebody would ask me that question, but thankfully Mother did not question too hard on that aspect. Would this typically be a pink lie?

I don't really know what to think. I am just a child with an adult mind. Will that hinder my growing up?

* * *

Author's Note: **I have completely and absolutely nothing against volleyball.** But there's a memory where this comes from a segment of my junior high days when I had a friend named Sarah. Well, on the first couple of weeks in P.E. (yes, I know I suck at athletics) we did volleyball. It turned out that she _really_ sucked (which is good, because I did too) and a couple of guys made fun of her like saying when she served, "Don't pull a Sarah!" And the thing was, I was just gutless because I didn't, you know, defend her. The next couple of weeks she spent the locker room crying. (She went to the counselor, but the thing was it didn't help.)

I think that's pretty cruel, but in school nowadays it's a common practice. It's a sad fact of life. There are bitchy people everywhere, and I think Sana is facing that fact when she tries new stuff for the first time.

Review, ne? I don't want to get too serious.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis,** never will, and I won't try to. Now, let us see... will Sana find love? Or not? Ah, whatever. I do surprising things to my characters because I can, and will. Sana, to me, is one of my most fleshed-out characters because I write it in first point view. And this chapter is a token of gratitude to all the yaoi fangirls if you did review. So review!

* * *

**--Act One, Scene Three-- **

I had a vivid dream yesterday. It was so real that I didn't want it to end, and yet it did, making me feel relieved and disappointed at the same time.

There was Eiji (no surprise, right? He had came to our house yesterday and bought me a square tennis ball.) and another guy who had an egg-shaped hairstyle. Their bodies were entwined. In a bed.

Instantly, I wished I wasn't there, I wished I wasn't seeing it. Eiji and Oishi were just friends, the best of the double players in tennis, and not soul mates.

What disturbed me wasn't the homosexuality content.

It was Kikumaru.

* * *

Another drab day at the superb aerodynamics of volleyball was enough for me to improve greatly at the said sport. There is one advantage as a target. You know exactly where the ball will hit, so you can easily hit it. 

That said, that doesn't mean that I mastered the childish American sport, though. My serves are occasionally weak. And I can't spike at all. My palm hurts when I try and more often than not I fall ungracefully in front of the coach, who has a dreadful whistle.

"Sana," she reprimanded me sternly, "You're trying, but you don't have any motivation. Keep up the good work."

Is she practically blind? I am a living dummy practice for the murderers on the other side of the net. And what is with all the 'motivation' quotes? I was trying my best to survive; even _I _could see that.

At break time I went to the vending machine to get a can of apple juice when one of the jockies stuck out her leg. Well, was I supposed to trip on her leg? Or was I supposed to ask her, "Hi, my name's Sana, can you move your damn leg out of the way?"

That's pretty ironic considering that I used to be such a polite and timid child. It changed due to the fact that I could get anything I wanted by being a genius. So I did a quick sidestep which surprises both of us and I get my juice.

Then I study my offender's face. She's pretty, in that easy-going preppy way. High cheekbones and long lashes. I glanced at my face on one of the reflective surfaces around the gym and there's nothing special about it. Black long hair and stupid spiffy bangs. And finally I realize I don't care. I've known who I always was and I don't change to whatever people say about me.

Let's run down the list: I was seriously uncoordinated (but it was improving by leaps _and_ bounds) and also one of the advanced geeks. I wasn't popular, and I drove people away because I always made fun of them, but it was okay to me. I didn't stand out too much, though I may have gone too far singing Happy Birthday to _sensei_ in English, including his age.

"Jerk." I muttered under my breath as she passed aside me. I hate the fact that people think I'm nothing. Just because I couldn't hit that one ball was not logically enough reasoning to hate me as a teammate.

It looks like she heard me though, because she turned her head and gave such a nasty smirk. I smiled back. Some people aren't worth enough to waste your time.

It was about ten minutes later when I reverted back to genius mode. This 'teenage mood swing' had been continuing for weeks. Science isn't good enough to explain the exact details of it, though I was planning an article in a local magazine about the psycho effects of it.

Calculating the odds and chances of one ball speeding toward me, I closed my eyes and willed my ears to direct my arms to deflect the hurling missile away from the floor.

It hit my neck squarely, but I couldn't feel anything as I fell to the floor, slowly, still closing my eyes.

* * *

"Sana? Sana! Are you all right? Are you all right?" Mother's voice filled my ears after I had gained consciousness. 

"I'm fine and you don't need to repeat yourself," I snapped to her, or so I had thought. There was Eiji, in his tennis jersey glory. Oh, great. He was exactly what I needed after being knocked out from a stupid volleyball.

He was grinning and I realized that he was holding up a small recording toy. He pressed a button and out came my mother's message, sounding worried and hurried.

"Oh, that's nice." I said dispassionately. I was feeling sore on my backside and I didn't have enough mental capacities to stir up quarrels with my arch-nemesis. "I totally expected that. A record of my mom panicking. Pure genius."

"Hoi, hoi, Sana!" He greeted me in a friendly way. He hadn't heard what I said, but perhaps it was for the best.

"Hi. What are you here for? I'm supposed to greet 'Kaa-san after volleyball practice..."

Eiji grinned again. It bothered me somehow but, like I said, I didn't have the youthful energy I was supposed to have to argue with him. And arguing with him was pointless, anyway. He pointed to a nearby clock, which read 9:45. Just fifteen minutes until my curfew.

"You've been out for hours. Tennis practice was way over when your mom called me."

"Oh. Thanks." I mumbled. Anything to get out of his way.

I slung my gym bag over my shoulder and it hurt a little, but I didn't show it on my face.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. I'm walking."

"No way. Your mom told me--"

"What my mom told you is your business. Not mine." And I shoved him out of the door. I was remembering the dream and it disturbed me deeply. I didn't want to contemplate why I had felt that way, and I didn't have to. So I ignored it.

"_No_." And this time I stopped. There was a catch in his voice, something different than the usually hyperactive boy that was standing in front of me, in the nurse's clinic. He was serious. So I waited.

I look at him straight in the eye. I'm not afraid to, but he is, so I look down at his shoes. Better yet, I close my eyes and sigh deeply.

"What is it?"

"N-nothing. It's just that carrying that is probably going to hurt your back even more. So give me it."

I shake my head slowly. "No. First of all, you're carrying a tennis racket."

"It's not that heavy."

"Second, this bag has all of my sweat-drenched clothes in it. And two bottles of water and... an empty can of juice."

He didn't hesitate. For a long time I had to decide. Suddenly, I put the bag on the palm of his hand and it didn't budge one inch.

"Thanks," I said again. Why was he being so nice to me?

I think he read my mind somehow so he rolled his eyes said, "I know you brainy types don't have a sporty streak."

I winced. He was right. I was knocked out today by a volleyball. If he had taken such a risky demeanor he couldn't have made it out of the hospital in a tennis match.

"But you were different in the gym today," he continued, "because you didn't care what happened to you. You wanted to hit that volleyball so badly."

"Yeah? Look what happened," I retorted back angrily. I hated not being in that protective genius mode, the one where I could be certain to be perfect, where no one could tell me how I was wrong. Volleyball wasn't for me. _Sports_ weren't for me.

"It makes a difference," he stated coldly, looking like I was inferior to him. "Didn't you feel any change from yesterday and today?"

Oh crap. Did he watch yesterday's match? I looked like a lunatic back there, but I still don't care, and my back still hurts.

"Yeah-- I mean yes. A little."

"Eh? Somehow I feel too strict talking to you like this."

His voice isn't serious anymore, and I feel like an idiot for actually answering him. He's a kid, for god's sake.

We walk home in complete silence, and it's awkward. Almost... like a first date.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Woo hoo! I loved this chapter. It's like Sana's a completely different person, but still the same. Not multiple personality disorder, but close enough.  



	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I like schizophrenics because I am surrounded by them indefinitely. There's the principle of our school, who definitely has Multiple Personality Disorder. And then there's Mommy and my little onee-chan who has way more mood swings than me...

Sana is one funny character. I sure wouldn't be surprised if this was going to turn into a love square... hey it is! No wait, it's not, I haven't gotten that far.

* * *

**--Act One, Scene Four--**

**--299 Blank Pages Because I Don't Feel like Writing in Them-- **

Today, or perhaps you could call it tonight depending on the time zone, I was supposed to write in a diary. The reason why is because my mother is obsessed with my life. She's concerned that I have no friends, that I'm going to have sudden growth spurts and that she'll have to spend an entire fortune buying new clothes, and that I'm not happy as I'm supposed to be according to her guidance counselor. I think she needs hobbies. Wait, scratch that. Both my families and Eji's families need a life, but I really shouldn't be saying that. I _am_ technically a genius. I am supposed to walk with a stick in my right hand and drag it on the fence just like Albert Einstein, but I could get weird looks for that. (AN: This was Einstein's habit while he was thinking and walking at the same time. Not a good idea, as you see.)

I wanted to explore the Fibonacci math formula. It has an ingenious pattern, and I had recently read an American book--not translated, mind you. I didn't like the translated kind because the Japanese were too humble to read things like that-- called The Da Vinci Code, supposedly the best thriller book in New York, so I had ordered one copy. I rarely spent my allowance for trivial things like makeup, hair clips or clothes. I had always assumed I would find a husband later after I had done all the things that I wanted to do.

There was this guy-- dead, of course, and he wrote a last note, a couple of numbers for the Fibonacci pattern. And then comes another professor- he happens to be on the scene at the wrong place at the wrong time, and then the book continues.

I was suitably impressed. The people of Japan are neat and humble, and if I can say so, a tad boring. They aren't daring or stupid or... I don't know. Maybe courageous? Nope, that's not the word. Proud? Yeah.

So I'm here reading, and then Mom buys me a new journal. It's really girly and has bits of lace all around. I wince. I thought she knew best that I don't like girly stuff. I'm not exactly a tomboy, but I was just a person with nonchalance about my gender.

She stuffs it into my arms and glares at the book. I defensively wrap my arms around it. It is a book. How can you hate a book, well, I meant a good book so much? It hides a whole new world in the pages and when you want to enter the world, all you have to do is open it and fall into the pages.

"Write. I want to see what you say."

I look at her, disgusted. Loads of people, including Yoshiko, have a dream journal that they write in every morning. But this was technically a diary. Was I supposed to write about silly crushes and how much I weighed and how school went? I am a senior this year! I don't have enough time to waste myself on trivial things like these. Even Eiji wouldn't see the potential of keeping this unless he did a strict training regime... though he does have one, right? I remember suddenly where he hides it under the lopsided teddy bear and my mother smiles when she sees the flash of light because it means that I know.

"See, Sana? Now you won't have to be out of the group anymore!"

Then under her breath (which I can hear well enough) she mutters, "Write or else I'll burn that stupid American book."

I back away quickly. My mother is a lovely lady in my opinion, but she is a holy terror when it comes to burning. This 'stupid American book' had cost me about thirty thousand yen, and it would be an abomination for her to burn away that much money.

"All, right, Mom." I am forced to play the obedient docile daughter for the day. So I got out an pen with magenta colored ink that some dweeb had given me for my birthday and slowly write out the words, "**_Today I played volleyball. I am getting better at it._**" Then I draw out exactly where the ball went and me (as a stick figure) hitting the ball and then added the finishing touches by using a shiny star sticker on the corner of my page, to indicate that I had a good day.

I look back and I am satisfied. Two simple sentences. But not for long.

I groan, because I count the number of pages in two minutes. Three hundred, including the one that I filled out. That is only a little less than a year.

* * *

Eiji met me behind the gym after volleyball practice, which was becoming a habit for him. At first I didn't like him hanging around such a dirty and grubby place, but he convinced me otherwise that it was a good thing. 

"See? Look at the girls. They _like_ guys around the place and now they don't think you're such a piece of dirt."

I glare at my arch-nemesis. "I am_ not _a piece of dirt!"

"Of course you're not. I was just saying, nya."

"Oh. Okay," and then we walk home to his house because I don't think I could stand my mother in that building. I wasn't in the mood to meet Yoshiko, who was a) either lamenting the loss of her faithful pet or b) doing some Tai Chi and then I'd have to go along with it.

I was surprised when I saw him with a few of his teammates. I hadn't ever thought there was the possibility that he actually might be popular or nice or decent, because he was slapping a couple of high-fives with them. And then, this brown haired guy that's only three centimeters taller than me, asks him, "Who is she, Kikumaru? Your girlfriend?"

I could have killed that guy instantly with a super smash hurl of a baseball bat, because I had no intention of associating myself as a _girlfriend_ of Eiji's.

"Her?" He puts on this little cute blank face of his which I know so well. When we were little kids he often got into trouble for sneaking out tennis balls and his parents would often lecture him. "No, she's just-- Sana." I'm grateful that he doesn't say anything more about my terrible sports skills and my superior intellect. I didn't have a life, like he used to tell me.

"And these are...?" I tilt my head toward them. Of course I knew who they were. Yoshiko told me about them, their blood types, their names, their rivals... sometimes I got sick of hearing about them. I just wanted Eiji to explain to me-- _me_. His neighbor. His... friend.

He points out them left to right. "Oishi, Fuji, Inui, Taka-san, Echizen, Momoshiro, and Kaidoh."

"Everyone, this is my neighbor, Sana Kururugi." He gave a little wave and then mumbled so that I only could hear, "And the best volleyball player _ever_."

Apparently Inui can hear more than the rest of the team can because he just smiles and says, "You play volleyball?"

I nod sagely. Yoshiko has often complained of how Inui forces his horrid juices on the team. Better to be safe then sorry.

"Want a match?"

"Um, I just got back from practice and my back hurts all over..." It seemed lame to me, and maybe to Inui too.

"Ah, relax. Physical exertion can make you feel much better after this match." I would have believed it too were it not for the whole glass of his specialty were brewing in front of him.

I hate Inui right now because he is a total pushover, and a really good one too. He's casual and he doesn't look like he forces people to do things all the time, but in reality I think he would be a fearsome bargainer. Well, my mom and him would at least be two peas in a pod...

There's a net at the back of Eiji's house. I've been here loads of times; he would challenge me to a tennis game when we were both elementary schoolchildren, but I had always politely declined in the face of his family. I never really liked sports. You couldn't improve at all. I mean, in math, there's numbers and it's so easy to see how accurate you could possibly be. In music, you could see how good you were by just hearing it. In sports there are too many variables. Something could go wrong. Stamina, opponent level, skills-- I was challenging a Seigaku tennis regular to a game of volleyball.

Inui studied me for a moment, and he was walking in a circle around me and shaking out my pockets without moving. Ten seconds: the oddest thing in my life, and he has beautiful green eyes. I wish he would wear contacts. It's a face worth memorizing, and I do my best, because he analyzes, and records. He's a data man. He goes for logical explanations.

It's been ten minutes when I realize I've been blushing, a pinkish kind of rose, but it's lovely. There's a certain pleasure looking at Inui.

And I've been utterly defeated, the volleyball making indentations on the court, the smoke meticulously rising to a wisp. He hands me the glass, and I rise it to my mouth when Eiji widens his eyes in horror. "No! Sana! It'll kill you."

I say the most stupidest thing next. "So?"

"So?" He repeated. "What do you mean, _'so'_?"

"I'm a tensai. And tensai like me and Fuji are allowed to drink this kind of thing."

I take a long draft. The taste is sort of weird, like celery and carrot juice, but delicious. I smile dazedly.

"See? I'm still conscious." I grin.

Kawamura lets out a breath that he didn't notice he held in. "You are _amazing_. The only one who could stomach it was you, Fuji, and Tezuka-buchou. Even Akutsu couldn't handle it."

Inui pulls out a notebook I didn't notice out of his back pocket. "Iie data..."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Before I had written this story, I had considered the possibilities of the OC for Fuji or Inui. If you're the girlfriend of Inui you _must _be immune to the juices or else you'll be dead in a day flat. Yeah, now it's a love triangle. I'm rooting for Eiji. You? 


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** I do not, in any way imaginable, do not own Prince of Tennis. I do own my OC's, and trust me, I own quite a bit of them.

I've been cleaning this story up, deleting a coupla chapters that I thought didn't really fit because it made the characters OOC, ect... yup, thanks to helpful reviewers. You guys really are the best. Oh, and yes. If this is officially chapter five, it means that Sana HAS NOT kissed Eiji yet. Ah, progress. XD

* * *

**---Shinjuku Butterfly---**

**---Act One, Scene Five---**

At the end of the day, I had found out something an ordinary person should have known at the first day of kindergarten: the quiet ones are the one that you have to watch out for.

Inui crept into my thoughts; he inched into the crevice of mealtimes, and the most private time for me: _homework._

Ah, homework. It is my specialty, my delight, my love. I relished in getting all the answers perfectly, and enjoy that challenge of a raw math problem. I loved figuring out a hard question and I loved the buzz of when the answer comes-- BOOM! just like a shot from a cannon. I had, in the history of my school life, never forgotten to do my homework, and thus understood the complexities of, say, quantum physics when the other pupils had not.

I'd thought that being clever would make me popular. In a way, it did, but not in the way that ordinary people do. Look at Eiji's sister, Miho. She's extremely pretty, but, in my opinion, she's bird-brained. Yet all the puberty-stricken boys in the local high school swarmed up to her and not me. I suppressed the urge to look in the mirror. Why should I? I was plain. I knew I was plain. I couldn't concentrate on homework, which was my pride and joy.

"Mom?"

"What is it?" She was busy watching a Korean drama and eating a bit of pudding she had found in the fridge. She loves dramas. I hate them. To me they are just another way to depict the shallower points of society, but to my mother they are nirvana.

"Well, it's not important... but I just wanted to know if I was, you know..."

"That you were what?"

"Am I pretty?"

"Of course, you are, darling. You're very pretty."

I knew, then, that I wasn't. My mother was. She used to be involved with many relationships, some which lasted for years, until she met my father. I don't know why she picked my father. He's not very good looking, and I couldn't tell if his personality was the strong point. I knew though that he could make her laugh and smile, which anybody can do, but she often said that he never judged a book by its cover. I wondered if I, too, should be concerned.

As if she was reading my mind, which she is too good at, she said, "You are who you are, Sana. Never doubt it."

"I'll never doubt in myself, Mom."

She smiled, in a wry way. "Don't be so sure. When you grow up and marry and move out, I'll still be here for you. No matter what happens."

"Mom," I started, but she shook her head. "It's okay. You are my daughter. We share the same name, the same birthday. March 7. That's why we're named Sana, ne?"

---

I woke up late with a pit of dread in my stomach. It couldn't possibly be the homework that I neglected to do problems seventy-two to one hundred and fifty yesterday on page 394 in the math book. It couldn't be the fact that I forgot to fill out a diary entry yesterday or the day before.

"Oh, of course," I moaned aloud. "It's volleyball practice today."

How could I have forgotten Coach and her ridiculous whistle with her ruddy complexion? I had grown to hate her as I hated unruly things, including eraser bits, spilled ink, and cleaning the hole punch out. I had this thing about perfection, which was why the mere thought of volleyball gave me an angry twitch.

There were a series of short raps on the door. "Come in," I hollered, while sitting on my bed with an over sized T-shirt that read, "So many books, so little time." It was my absolute favorite piece of clothing which clearly states how much time I do have for books.

I'd assume that it'd be my mom that was entering into the depths of genius territory, but alas. It was Eiji, in regular clothes. Yikes.

"What are you doing IN. MY. ROOM?!?"

Eiji winced, and looked around. "Your mom just said that you could skip volleyball since she thought you weren't feeling good."

I looked up hopefully. "Really?"

"She said something about self-esteem, so I guess I can give you this."

He handed an envelope which contained a slip of paper. I leaned over to read the fine print.

"A Summer Concert for all you Chocolate fans... Eiji..." My eyes were wet.

"What? Don't you usually like the Chocolates?" He asked hurriedly.

I couldn't explain that I had been experiencing a minor blow to my self confidence, and now the most eligible bachelor was taking me _out_ to a concert. This was too much for somebody like me.

"Yeah, I do. Eiji, thanks a lot." I turned my head so he wouldn't see me wiping my eyes on a loose sleeve.

"OK! Hoi hoi! Get dressed. The concert's today and I'm getting the front seats!"

---

Getting dressed that day was a lot harder than I expected. Eiji kept barging into my room, and I still hadn't picked out what I would wear to the concert.

Finally we put up a deal: He would pick the clothes, because he was the person who wanted me to dress like a normal person and I didn't. In exchange, I would get five minutes (three hundred seconds, by the way) to actually put them on.

His taste in clothes were eccentric for me. An Icee T-shirt and a black matte shirt that I had not seen for decades was found in the dark crevices of my wardrobe. Eiji may have been one of the scariest men I had met, with the exception of Fuji, of course. Oh, yeah. And where had I seen that pair of fishnets?

"For the finishing touch, Princess Sana..." He flourished a hand around his tennis bag and gave it to me. I was mortified.

"Makeup?!? Why do I need makeup?!?"

"Frankly, I'd say you wouldn't, but you have to look like a fan, not some nerd that goes around wearing T-shirts that say 'Reality is merely an illusion.'"

There was a lump in my throat. Putting on makeup was an abomination to me because I believed I was a survivor of the superficial society that believed that appearance was everything. I couldn't do it.

"No, Eiji." I pushed away the Warm Ivory eyeshadow.

"Yes, Sana." He said firmly.

He turned the chair around and I was in front of a big mirror. Welcome to Cat Salon, for all your beauty needs.

"Eiji-kun, what are you doing?"

"Putting on makeup for my first client."

"Do you even know how?"

"Sana, I have two older sisters that spend money on guys. And my older brothers are in college. So all the makeovers go to me. I've gotten pretty good at it."

"Oh. Okay." I shut up.

---

We sat in prolonged silence, me in front of a mirror, hugging my legs anxiously, and Eiji waiting patiently on my bed armed with an assortment of makeup and stolen hair accessories which he had stolen from Miho. I had to make the first move. Logistically, if he could put makeup on me, it meant that we would go to the concert. If not, then I would be forced to spend at least another hour in the room. I wondered where Eiji had learned patience. It wasn't in his nature. _Maybe from Oishi_, I thought.

_Or maybe_, an ugly thought came to me,_ he's doing this for you._

I buried my head into my legs. Definitely not. I was _not hot_ for Eiji, even though he was doing all of these nice things to me!

"Okay. I think I'm ready." I said hesitantly.

He leaped up joyfully, and said happily, "Yay! It takes so much work to be patient, you know that, Sana! And just look out, you're going to be fabulous."

"Oh, okay... but still..."

"Just hold still. All right?"

Then his magic hands took over, brushing foundation over my usual bumps and ridges on my face. After he was done with that, he lined my eyes with black kohl and began to carefully rim my long eyelashes with mascara. As he worked, I looked in the mirror. I was surprised, big time.

There was a girl in there but she wasn't the old me, like the genius everybody else had came to love. She wasn't even the lonely person I was before I had met Eiji and his fiendishly friendly schemes. No. She was a pretty girl. Something that I had never been before. Seeing the shocked look on my face, Eiji whispered to me, "There you go. Happy?"

I nodded. Happily.

---

After an hour of being educated about the fundamentals of foundation and the logistics of exactly why we shouldn't mix powder and liquid, we set off. I looked like the Asian version of Madonna in drag while he looked so cute, like an aspiring lead singer in a all boy band.

"Oh, c'mon." He dragged me by the hand, a habit that often occurred when I was being a stubborn donkey.

"I am not going out there with this... mess on my face!" I was still in denial that my best friend was the magic man.

"It looks fine. C'mon, Sana. Please? Or else the rest of the team's going to inhabit this house. I promised them the volleyball court."

"..."

---

We went to some rock concert hall decorated with some atrocious Euro-pop themed furniture. I, naturally, was the first to complain.

"That's pretty interesting furniture there, Eiji. Only the material's too shiny for this to actually belong in Japan."

"Knock it off," he snapped. "I still need to get the fifth member of the Chocolates autograph and she's premiering today."

"There's a fifth member?" I asked, bewildered.

"Well, what did you expect? After the Hanoi Team got number two on the Oricon charts they've been preparing for the next release of their new album, Shinjuku Butterfly. In fact, it may be on sale today. So just shut up and enjoy."

Did Eiji just tell me that he was being a little paranoid? And 'shut up'? How rude.

"Well, just don't embarrass me," I mumbled.

Making our way to the seats, Eiji chattered merrily to me and other random strangers as if he had known them all his life. The strangers, that is. _I_ had already known him for all his life.

Unfortunately for me, it seems that they were also big fans of the Chocolates because they were chatting right back at me. I wasn't exactly a big fan, but their music was pretty decent. It just wasn't my thing. I preferred Beethoven's Symphony No. 5 and Bizet's Carmen, complete with the yells of "Toro, toro, toro!" in the opera house at full steam.

"Hey, douches. Move your ass over. Except for the girl. The girl can stay." A crude voice came to our seats for some reason.

"What do you mean, kind spirit? I paid for my ticket, nya." His voice was displaying a real gift for sarcasm.

"So did we. This is our seat. Now get out, or I'll call the police."

"You can't do that!" I piped up angrily. "Let me see the ticket."

"Here, little girl. Look all you want. And maybe if your boyfriend can't get you decent seats, _maybe_ you might want to spend the night with me, ne? I can show you around and have a good time. How about it?"

"Look, you fucking asshole, we just want to watch the concert," another guy behind him said. "Can't you douchebags understand that? Or do I have to spell it out for you?"

In the quotes of H. P. Wells, they were despicable. I wanted to chop them into pieces and serve them into sushi. Perhaps then, at least they would serve a purpose for the whole world to see. And I was _not_ hot for Eiji, even though everyone in school and my parents had come to that conclusion!

"All right, you people. Break it up, we're all here to enjoy some fabulous singers, all right?" An usher had come up to the front row, loftily speaking with two police officers flanked by both of his sides. "Or, if you guys make it too hard on us, we will be forced to eject you out of these premises." He smiled, a gold teeth gleaming dangerously.

Where had I heard that line before? Ah, yes. _Jackasses _and the disgusting sequel. I didn't watch it, but Yoshiko had taken me to see _Mochi Man _when I was four and they had broadcasted the trailers. Revolting.

"Here's our ticket." Eiji said triumphantly. "Now can we go and sit down?"

"This isn't a real ticket." the usher said sharply. "Moreover, where did you get this?"

"I paid forty bucks to get that?!?" Eiji's face showed despair. I could relate to him. Many times, when I had wanted a special version of the Gundam figurines, I always had a---

"I'm sorry, but you and your friend must get out for these people. They have a real ticket."

"But-- sir!"

"You can get a ticket some other time."

Anger and fury raised up to me. What was this-- this-- adult doing? What kind of bastard would let two innocent people leave to these jerks?

"What's happening here?"

I didn't turn my back. It was probably another one of those stupid policemen, presumably planning to interrogate us.

Instead, I found a pretty girl gussied up in shades of lavender and pink. She was looking bored and cracked her gum, blowing small noisy bubbles.

"We got fraud tickets," I said morbidly. I didn't know who she was, but I'd take sympathy any day over contempt.

"Oh, really?" she asked, mildly interested.

"Yeah."

"That's no problem for me, actually. Hey, wanna go on the stage?"

I snorted. "Yeah, and have the security 'eject' us again?"

"No, I'm serious. C'mon. It's payback for whoever sold you those crappy tickets."

"I don't even know you."

"You don't have to."

"Well... I don't know."

"C'mon, Sana." Now Eiji tugged impatiently on my shirt. It was really annoying because I had just ironed it this morning. "Pretty please? I paid twenty hundred yen for a ticket, each."

"Ooh." Now the girl's interest was slowly rising into flames. I could see it. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"What? No, definitely not. We're just... splurging our time over the premiere of the fifth member of the Chocolates."

"Ah, I see." the girl nodded, but I knew she wasn't convinced. It didn't take a genius to figure that out, even if I was one.

---

"What color?" she asked, giving a box of T-shirts to us. We were in an unused dressing room.

"Red." I said happily. Now I had a free souvenir without paying. Mother would be so proud. "Thank you so much."

"No problemo. You?" she pointed to Eiji.

"I don't need one," he said cheerfully, with the same enthusiasm I had when I received the T-shirt. It meant that he was over the screwy tickets.

"Your shirt's a mess. Take it off."

I had never seen a girl so abrupt and demanding. Still, I admired her audacity to actually speak to a person like that. I would, too, if somebody was proud of their stupidity.

"Fine, nya."

"Here's your--- wait, what? What did you say?"

"I said, fine."

"No, after that-- was that a_ nya_?"

"Yup. It's a habit that I can't stop." He blushed, which I was confused at. Blushing? It was _him_ who usually caused the blushing.

She shook her head, charmed. "You're a cat."

"Yes, I am, miss..."

"No need to know my name. You'll find that out by... now."

There was a group of girls, all very pretty, who called out, "Hirose-chan! Where are you?"

"Over here!" she called. Then she winked. "Now you know who I am."

They came into the door.

"Oh, there you are-- who are these guys? The drummers?" the one dressed up in a frilly blue dress and perky shoes asked.

"Nope." she said briskly. "These are my friends Sana and... Eiji. They're going to sit at the front stage."

I breathed out a sigh of relief. Thank god for her long time memory. Eiji was trying to act cool, like he got to sit on a famous idol's front stage all the time. He was also trying to figure something out.

"So... if that means you have the power to let us on the stage, you'd have to at least be the stage manager or... or..."

"A member of the Chocolates. And I'm the fifth one, Osawa Hirose."

* * *

Author's Note: Whee! Long chapter for me. I am on a roll, peoples, and you can't stop me! And there... is your other OC. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **I cleaned up a bit of the story, which means... yup. No kiss from Eiji, no phone call, just a concert in which Eiji may be crushing on an idol and Sana is a teeny bit jealous. But c'mon. There's her (very) tiny crush on Inui.

* * *

**---Big Bang! Concert-o!---**

**---Last Day of Summer---**

We were on the stage, behind the audience's view. One thing we were not avoiding, however was the colossal sound waves that shook the earth when the idol group began performing. Eiji seemed entranced by it, and I was almost trying not to enjoy myself. Almost. It was pure fun and I couldn't help myself cheering when they nearly ran away. Soon the house lights came back and one member, the girl that we had met, came out. Hirose took the mike, and yelled out, "Thanks, y'all! This has to be the best premiere of anything, and I'd like to introduce my friends. This is Sana, and Eiji! Give them a hand!"

The crowd went nuts. I think it was because they thought that we were on the stage. Eiji looked like he was going to faint, and I grinned happily and, with unknown bravery unlike Joan of Arc, waved. They had to be filming this. I mean, can you believe some loser like me is going to be famous? Quick, somebody hand me a pad and pen for my autograph!

"These two got duped because some jerk sold them fraud tickets."

The audience booed. Hiro just smiled and said casually--

"So, Sana, how was the concert?"

Hiro handed the mike to me. _Ohmygod. _What was I supposed to say? Amazing? Extraordinary? Or, if I really wanted to torture myself, I could say illuminating.

"Awesome!" Great, now I wasn't even in charge of my own mouth. Next thing you know I'd be caged in an asylum under the pretension that I was deluded.

The audience went wild over that. My later concerns had nothing with me. Because it sounded like Eiji... peeing in his pants.

No, just kidding. But it could have with his face being very white, as in Snow White. The white when the preps overhear someone having a baby in the bathroom.

Well, she handed the mikey mikey over and Eiji? Has no longer the basic functions of being coherently able to utter what he thought of the best concert I'd thought was better than answering the multi-millionaire question: What came first, the chicken or the egg?

"W-Well, it was awesome... I guess..." he said, like when he was a child after I told him Santa didn't exist. He was shaking. Oh my. Where is our favorite hyperactive neko-san tennis player? Where art thou? Can you hear me now?

The audience booed. Everybody that didn't at least had to feel some sympathy. I patted him on the back, which just made the crowd yell some more.

---

"What a freak out," he mumbled as he collapsed on an overstuffed recliner resplendent in coffee stains and whipped cream. "I mean... Hiro was like 'Here you go!' and I was, 'What?' and you know... I kinda crashed. You know that feeling, nya?"

"Maybe," I answered thoughtfully, playing with my hair. I was more focused on the fact that my hair didn't have the same shine as those glamorous singers. Heck, even the backstage dancers were busy straightening their hair with whatnot and stuff I had scorned for the ages. Hm. Was I truly ignoring the feminine advantage that true men would never toy with? Or... could it be a bond between the homosexual and women? You know, when all they say that gay guys have good fashion taste?

Eiji looked where I was staring and began to pick out girls. "Ooh, man, the one at three o' clock is a total eight. I mean, I like her clothes, but her body is so---

"Eiji..." I reminded him gently. "I'm a girl. And don't pick me out."

He looked a little hurt at that. His rating system is from one to ten, the higher the more pheromones that are being secreted. If you didn't get my drift, then...

"Do that with Momoshiro later."

"All right, then, Sana. But still..."

"Are you guys ready yet?" A voice perked up. It was Osawa. "I gotta get ya something as a token of my gratitude to wrap things up."

She was in normal clothes and normal shoes, and she looked totally different in real life than on the stage. But I guess that in spite of how normal she looked, she had a lot of energy, and that, was second to none. Except if 'none' was Eiji. "Yosh! Let us travel to a distant and mysterious place in which we will call, ramen shop, and I shall pay for this extraordinary adventure!" Then, horrors of horrors, Eiji laughed, and said, "You really are something, aren't you?"

I resented her for this.

Actually, it was more of a throbbing dullness. I was tormenting myself by walking besides them. Suddenly, I stopped.

"Um, sorry guys, I just remembered I have go back."

Hiro had one eyebrow lifted. She asked silently for an explanation. Eiji just stopped, knowing. He knew me best.

"My curfew's in a couple of minutes and I gotta go home." I shrugged, not knowing what exactly I would do when I got home. Cry, maybe. Or yell into my pillow. Or solve the thousandth number of Pii and work more and more until I dropped dead into my bed. I was such a wimp for not enduring this. She shrugged. She kept walking with Eiji and I saw her hang from his shoulders, him smiling, and them talking like a normal couple. I realized that she was a boy-stealer. After I had given her the affirmative that Eiji was not taken, she swooped in, and just like that, poof! he was out of my reach.

I trudged home wearily and melancholy, intending to listen to Peter Tchaikovsky's Symphony Number Five, which he had written after the death of a woman he had loved. For once I could relate to the Russian composer. Because our hearts were just... I don't know. Hurting. I'd thought there was no way that an internal organ could actually experience pain from emotion. I guess I was wrong, and wrong on a lot of things. Being smart made no difference when it came to experience.

"Kururugi-san? What are you doing?"

Inui was sitting, waiting for the train. I didn't know him very well but as soon as I could talk, I said that I was waiting for the train too.

"You don't look very well."

"No, I don't." I sighed. And then I closed my mouth, hoping that this day would magically disappear somehow.

I realized that he was looking at me, and that made me blush. Finally, I said, "What?"

"Nothing." He was fiddling with the green notebook he always had and a trusty mechanical pencil. "See that train down there? There's some freakish accident. Someone today committed suicide."

I looked, and sure enough there was the police huddled.

"God. My crappy day finishes on a crappy ending."

He looked at me and remarked amusedly, "My. What language. But I understand that you have a bad day."

I glared at him. I shouldn't have, though. My usual demeanor was calm, composed. I turned my head and took a deep sigh.

"You have no idea."

"Oh, but I have. So go on."

---

"Wow. So let me get this straight: he gives _you_ a makeover and then he ditches you for a famous singer? That's crazy."

"It's true," I said. "Really. And the worst part is that I can't hate her because I already said Eiji has no girlfriend."

"Uh-huh. I don't think I'll write this. It seems way too crazy. You're on a date with Eiji--"(commence me cringing)"and he... wow."

"Will you please stop with the 'so he does this and this'? I've analyzed it too and there are two options: just watching this from a safe distance, or confronting him directly and ask about his own feelings. Two options, and they both suck." I blew out a puff of air. Ranting sure was tiring.

"Sorry for you being so anal. I didn't realize females were so... hysterical."

"It's a special day, Inui-san."

"I guess. Well, the train is fixed, and I gotta walk you home."

"What?!?" My head was forcefully being reminded of when I was being knocked out by a volleyball and being walked home myself... with Ei-jerk. "No way."

"It's dark," he said, as if this was the most logical thing in the world. "And Eiji would never forgive me if you got harassed by some molester or pervert. Especially on the train."

I sighed again. I didn't have the energy to argue back to some random guy I met only a week before, and I really needed to go home. "O.K. Fine. Do whatever you want."

"Yes!" He punched the air. "Sorry. Just wanted get myself a burst of energy."

---

The walk home was interesting enough to narrate to the reader. Inui could talk when he wanted to. He even gave me one of his notebooks and I corrected most of the wrong answers, pointing out some random law of physics and him busy using a handy eraser.

Mom was looking out of the window and I knew we had to quit here. "Hey, Inui. You'd better go home. But it was nice talking to you." He nodded and then dashed out, probably doing some training for tennis.

She smiled, and I knew I was forgiven for the trespassing the curfew.

"Who is that? Your boyfriend?"

"Nope. Just a friend."

* * *

Author's Note: I really, really, really, don't want to eat any more sugar... 


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** I am constantly being reminded of Kodocha when I read this. If you have watched it you will know why. xD I didn't think my story resembled Kodocha at all until my little sister told me that the main character was named Sana and that she was stretched between two guys. I was amazed. I think my subconscious had told me to do this for some reason. I haven't watched Child's Toy for ages now... Makes me feel old, you know?

I think I may have made Sana OOC, if that is even possible. XD

* * *

**---Linear Graphs---**

**---First Day of School---**

Today was the first day after summer break. The weather was still insanely hot, and most of us were practically dying in our brand-new starched uniforms. I wasn't though. Being prepared as I always was, I inserted sunblock and carried a water mister outside of school. Two things that were important and happened today also caused my hell.

**_Number One:_** Hirose Osawa transferred out of nowhere. I am not kidding you. She was under another alibi, presumably because of Eiji and the stupid manager wanting to get her some education so that she wouldn't end up like Paris Hilton. I asked her what she was doing here (in private) under the pretense that I was trying to make another friend.

Right. Let's get one thing straight before I pop like a tick on a doggy's fur. I _hate_ shojo anime and manga. You want to know why? Because here's the thing. There are starving people in China and there's a dictator government in North Korea. Do you actually think that your readers care so much about the romance love crap triangle? Do you actually think that, for one moment, that we are weeping as your d--- boyfriend gets stolen by some ganguro beach bunny who couldn't/wouldn't/shouldn't care about you who's desperate for him back?

There's another reason why I hate it.

It was happening to me. It's fantastic how karma works, huh?

"Who are you?" She asked, her head cocked like a cocker spaniel I had seen in National Geographic. Ha-ha. Like somebody like her would forget her first fans onstage.

"Sana. Remember?"

"Sana who?"

I decided to play a little game. "I thought you'd remember my name. After all, you know... Eiji Kikumaru was the guy who walked you home."

She blushed, and I knew I had hit home. _That little_... wait. Stop. _Calm down. You're just a little angry because she forgot who her potential love rival might be._

I stooped low, and she shuddered, since I was invading her personal space. I didn't care. "I know who you are, and I'm not gonna tell. But you know...--

She pushed me away abruptly.

"Leave me alone, you stupid stalker! I didn't do anything!"

"Stupid? Genius is more like it." But I didn't think she heard me; she sped away too quickly for my words to hear me.

I watched her stalk out of the bathroom and waited at least for a moment until I sighed. I squared my shoulders straight, proud that I didn't cry. Her words were harsh. I supposed I was harsh as well, but she didn't deserve an apology. God. I hated this. This totally went against my nature, and I could feel my sunblock melting in the cool interior of the bathroom.

I headed to the classroom, hopping I didn't miss the lunch bell when---

"Oh, Sana-chan, there you are, nya."

Eiji put his hand on my shoulder. I think I just melted, myself.

"Who were you arguing with? No offense, but it sounded like you were like, angry. The Sana I know would never argue that loud."

With his infectious grin, I couldn't tell him. It was much too embarrassing. I avoided his eyes. His dark, blue eyes. Such innocent, childish, eyes. Why I'd fall for him, I'd never know.

"It's nothing," I lied hurriedly, and pushed him away because it is so hard to ignore the thing you want the most. I had never felt this way, never argued from something I didn't agree with.

_Calm down_, I told myself. _You're hyperventilating because he bumped into you._

Lies.

---

**_Number Two:_** Inui made me try out for the volleyball team after school.

I am, again, not kidding. He was unfortunately, impressed with my improved skills at the said sport and threatened me with Aozu.

"This is the only drink that knocked out Fuji."

So I had to. Damn pushovers.

-

Incredibly, the crowd coming to watch the tryouts were accumulating. I think it had something to do with the American Football players having entirely too many girlfriends on the volleyball team, but I wasn't nervous if Eiji wasn't there. He was busy on the tennis team and had to go for some random meeting.

That being said, Inui walked away and I was trapped in an arena with pumped up, testosterone-fueled boys and fiery tempers of local cat-fights from the girls betting on who wouldn't make the team. I shivered. Girls were so scary this time of year... nope. This was nothing compared to Valentine's Day. I had scared off most of the girls in their fight to give Eiji a chocolate, but there was nothing protecting Fuji or Tezuka. Fuji wasn't surprised, but the year that Tezuka was upgraded to captain status, you should have seen his face. It was so out of character that I couldn't help snapping a picture. His reaction was priceless.

Anyway, I would have a good laugh at that later. I had to concentrate on not getting knocked out like in my last match in the summer. I carefully picked my position about three feet away from the server, at the middle of the line.

A young lady with a hefty bosom walked in the gymnasium with a whistle. I groaned. Oh God. Please, no whistle. I'm begging you.

"All right, ladies, we have about..." she counted silently and made a wild guess. "...seventy five people and one afternoon to get to the meat of the matter. We will only have six players and two alternatives, which will only give you eight candidates. Some of you will not get into the team, but that doesn't matter as long all of you try your best."

She blew her whistle (again), and a high schooler came out.

"This is Arisa Odagiri." This caused many whispers, as she was the captain of the champion of the prefecture tournament team. She was from Hyotei, and I remembered Ryuzaki-san saying that they also had a strong tennis team. She was an impressive figure, with a beautiful body perfected by years of playing and a head full of long voluminous hair. I wasn't conscious that I was running my hand into my own hair until I noticed the girls beside me were also fluffing their hair as if Arisa's might come up and cut their long locks off. I slapped myself and shoved it into a pocket. Wannabes. I was just here to do what I was supposed to do. I doubted that most of them even knew the rules.

"She is going to be the server. Your job is to hit the ball. We will evaluate after the first round."

The first girl nervously stepped up and held out her arms nervously. I prayed for her as I never had, hoping she would live after this.

Odagiri held her arm to eye level, then threw it in the air following with a powerful spike. The victim never had a chance, until---

The ball went over the net and landed on Odagiri's side. Mouths were agape, hands were dropped to the side. Shock pervaded the whole gym. You could hear a potato chip crunch, which is saying a lot for middle-schoolers.

Then someone hooted out, "She kicked the ball!"

I felt really really sorry for her then. Any fool with eyes could see that she wanted to die, or better, hoping that the gym would catch on fire.

She shuffled her feet, ashamed, and left the gym in despair. I found out later she was a second-year. Oh well. That memory would be soon forgotten, and there was always next year.

The next person in line fared no better, and she gracefully exited out of the door with the charm of a snob while pretending she was not really crying. The audience, I was positive, was making fun of her through silent _Ha-ha's, you sucked eggs_ with their sneering eyes. I have to confess that I joined as well.

Misery loves company.

I glanced my watch about ten trillion times, made a few phone calls, and watched as one bulky girl finally hit the ball over net, where Arisa caught it in her hand, looking mildly interested.

Finally it was my turn, about half of the girls leaving the gyms and audience grumbling, anxious for the team to get members.

I took a deep breath. The next seconds were going to be the most important moments of my senior year. I could finally get recognition as an athlete and not as a super nerd, which would mark the end of my middle-school years. I had no experience last year, nor did I have any the year before. I was under pressure. I sighed. This was not worth an evening where I could relax in a hot bath and do homework in bliss...

"Name?"

"Sana Kururugi."

The audience recoiled. I could hear my peers behind me say, "Is she serious? She couldn't play in P.E." and whatnot.

I had to prove them wrong.

Arisa raised the ball as a signal of my final and most dramatic death. Or would it? I might actually hit it and get on the team. The tension was too much to bear.

POW! went the cry of the shrieking volleyball and I kept my eyes steady on the ball. One inch more... yes! Yes!

The ball sighed with a neat arc over the net, and I laid on the ground, filled with relief that I had finally gotten to the ball. "Nice dig!" Odagiri yelled, admiring the posture of my arm.

Coach looked impressed. I went proudly to the bleachers, filled with an exhilaration I had never experienced before except for acing a test, and the line continued.

-

"Next, we want you to serve and then, after Odagiri bumps, set. Go!"

There were only fifteen girls left. I eyed them. There were about two freshmen, seven second years, and six seniors including me. I knew then, that I had gotten by with luck. I clutched my good luck charm, a pig necklace Eiji had given me once, and crossed my fingers in case it didn't work.

The first couple of girls went up in confidence, and I, too, strode up and by sheer dumb luck again, made my magic work. If pigs could fly.

-

The coach blew her whistle (very annoying) and clapped her hands. She had a stack of team jerseys in one hand and a list in another.

"We'd like to announce the final selection for the volleyball team. Congratulations to who made it, and who didn't, we congratulate you for trying out.

Toda Sakato.

Kururugi Sana.

Fujiwara Manami.

Kinoshita Jun.

Toshio Utada.

Chitose Mikan.

Ryoki Mayuko.

Sakuragi Kisa. Thank you for supporting us." Then she walked out, Arisa winking at me and heading to the locker room.

I had received the sucking feeling in my gut._ I had made it._ Those lessons from summer vacation had paid off. Without my brain, too. Feeling exhausted, I walked to the vending machine, where a big line snaked around the tennis courts.

Surprisingly, a short guy with a cap and Inui were at the back.

Inui handed me a can of Ponta. "How was it?"

I took a long drink. It tasted particularly good with the tinge of victory.

"I made it."

"Really."

"No kidding. Thanks for making me try out. By the way, who is he?"

"That guy... is Ryoma Echizen. The guy who put me out of the tennis team today and made me manager."

I cringed. "That means he's really good, right?"

"Undoubtedly."

The kid in front of us muttered mutinously about the long line. "Che. Mada mada dane."

I wagged my eyebrows. "Charming."

He nodded. "I can't wait to play against him again. He was one tough rookie."

Finally, the kid just burst. "Must... need... Ponta!"

"Here," Inui handed the drink to him, and I saw the fastest reflexes operate in Seigaku. In two seconds flat he had opened the can and in three seconds he drained the whole thing.

"Thanks, Inui-senpai. I was about to panic."

"According to your page in my notebooks, it says you have an interest in Ponta after a tough match. How about another one with me?"

His reply was short and to the point: "No."

Inui shrugged. "Wanna walk home? Eiji sounds really busy. He's training for stamina purposes."

"Well..." I looked at the tennis courts, then to Inui, and then to the courts again. "I don't know."

"Really. I didn't know you liked him that much."

I blushed again, which was getting a bit too common. "He's just a friend, alright?"

"Whatever." He trudged down to the school entrance. "See you tomorrow."

* * *

Author's Note: Another useless chapter... 


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:**This is about the THIRD TIME I've done this because of writer's block: deleting chapters. I don't have the heart or courage to scrap the darn story because I'm too lazy to write the whole thing. Meh. (stealing Apple Snapple's phrase) **GO BACK TO THE LAST CHAPTER BECAUSE I KNOW YOU FORGOT WHAT HAPPENED.** **I ALSO KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER.** I beg of you! (sobs)

Ah, and I really want to read a good EijiOC story, but the real treats are usually TezukaOC stories because the robot man is so fun to write! :heart:

* * *

"Hey, Inui! Inui!" I said, walking out on the tennis courts. "Are you here are not, because my practice starts about fifteen minutes and..." I gave up. "Okay, he's not here and I am going to look really ridiculous with a present wrapped in a pretty ribbon..." I mumbled to myself. "Where are all the lockers? Or, more importantly, where is his shoe locker?"

"Eh? Who are you?" Fuji Shusuke, Seigaku's most eligible bachelor, came out with a racket. "Oh..." his face fell. "Confession, is it?"

I shook my face, deadpan. "Nope, something for..." I narrowed my eyes. "the nerd."

Obviously I wasn't going to warm up to him yet; an ubiquitous data man who stalked on every living creature for all I knew. He was smart; I gave him that much because he was one of the few that knew keenly about my attraction to Eiji. I was anxious for him to not divulge my secrets; who knew? I could land being more sickened by his juices than being in some co-despondent relationship.

It was my mother's idea. She was absolutely ecstatic about me 'getting out of my shell'.

_"Well done, honey! I'm sure that the person that influenced you should deserve some sort of congratulations!"_

_"What... kind... of... congratulations?"_ I asked slowly.

_"Hmm..."_ My mother paused, scratching her chin_. Then, light bulb. "Ecchi."_

I choked on my cereal_. "Whoa whoa whoa! Okaa-san, seriously. We are stopping here."_

_"Maybe not. After all, what kind of man doesn't want a harem all to himself?" She scrunched her eyes in a failure to wink. "Shall we pick Love Hina? Or, say, a Playboy subscription? Never fails, and especially when you are in middle school..."_ Mother was in a trance._ "Ah, middle school! The place where your sexual desires are unleashed..."_

In the end I tore out my pages out of the journal and the stupid unicorn stickers and wrapped it in last year's Christmas gift paper. A bit desperate, I know, but it was fitting. He liked collecting data and he already knew about me, so why bother?

Fuji was still standing. "What nerd?"

I took a deep breath, and let it out. "Inui Sadaharu, please."

He looked taken aback and then smiled. "Sure. Inui! Someone wants to drink your new concoction!"

"Who?" he said, nearly running Fuji over. "Who is it--oh, it's you."

Fuji simply said, "Well, I'll leave you two alone."

He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose and said, "So? What is it? Fifty percent chance that you're here to say thanks yet again and fifty percent that you're just here to harass me. Which one is it?"

I grinned and said, "Both. Happy birthday."

"Your sarcasm sucks." He commented. "It's not my birthday."

"Whatever. Thanks for making me try out for the volleyball team."

He took my package, carefully unfolding the wrapping paper. "Gee, a new notebook, how original. But," his face lifted. "You get to drink this," and he handed me a steaming mug of purplish... liquid.

"Ooh, how nice. What is it this time?" I tipped the tumbler toward my mouth and... waited for the blackout...

It didn't come. I was surprised. In fact, it tasted quite--

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Taka-san's voice screamed out. "Inui, how could you? And now, you're luring in girls!" He barrelled in holding a racket in one hand and a fist of steel in the other, but I digress. "LEAVE THE POOR DAMSEL ALONE!!" he hollered.

"Oh no," Fuji chuckled. "Dear me, I'll take care of him." He had merged from the bushes close to where we were standing.

Tezuka had also, came out of the bushes, looking irritated and his hair mussed. He was surprised to check up on us, said automatically to Inui-the-manager, "Don't let your guard down." and went after the other team members.

"Hm. They're stalking on us," I said.

"Probably think we're dating or something," Inui said haphazardly. "Too bad they don't know your dirty little secret."

"Shut up," I replied eloquently. "He's probably hankering off some skank, and I don't even know her that well."

"Jealous much?" he remarked. "Oh, and you should be heading off to volleyball practice."

"Oh my god you're right for once." I said, looking at my watch and practically sprinted to the gym located on the other side of the school. "See you later!"

The school is huge. Much huger than I had expected, and that was saying something considering I had attended this place for three years. The school captain, Fujiwara Manami, was waiting impatiently in the locker room.

"God. You're late." Her mouth was shaped in a perfect _moue_. She was perfectly amazing: a living, breathing, stereotype of the typical teenage girl.

"S-Sorry," I wheezed. There was a stitch in my side. The girl seemed to grin at my pain and I could see a lump of neon blue gum behind her perfect teeth. Manami stuck a Post-It note on my forehead. "It'll tell you all you need to know."

I peeled it off and read: _Loser, your locker is 709. I've prepared all your equipment, but obviously seeing as you're not in perfect physical condition you're going to be a benchwarmer._ It was amazing how much she could've fit in that tiny piece of paper. I just hoped I wasn't going to be flattened.

I asked the girl next to me hesitantly, "Um..."

"Oh! Let me think... you're Kururugi-san, ne? I'm Ryoko Mayuka, your kouhai. But seeing that it's the beginning of the club for you, _you_ should be_ my_kouhai!" She grinned. "It's been awesome this year. We seriously need players that aren't going to end up like sluts that are just there for the school idols."

"Ah, nice to meet you." I said, a bit take aback. "I'm not a slut!" I added defensively.

"I know that. Nobody would think that if you're number one in the exams!" she chirped. "This is why Manami let you in partly. She doesn't want the volleyball club to have a bad reputation. Almost nobody takes us seriously, either," she said mournfully. "But maybe this year... maybe."

"You mean that girl who gave me this?!" I said indignantly. I slapped the sticky note onto Mayuko's hand. "I didn't think she would be so mean."

She scanned it and shrugged. "You're a beginner, doofus. Duh. But a regular, and you are a very special case. You might even have..." she gasped for dramatic effect, "_talent that nobody's seen for the last twenty years_!"

"Hey!" Fujiwara barked. "Do I look like Dominoes or something, because I don't deliver!"

"Gag." whispered Mayuko. "Old line." She had changed and was strapping on her knee pads. "You might want to change." she hastened to tell me.

I sighed. Why was everyone telling me what to do?

**-x-**

"Hey, kid. Yeah, I'm talking to you."

"Yes?" I said. "My name is Kururugi."

"Whatever. Did you turn in your physical?"

"I got it here."

"That's great. Now I know your size and if you have allergies. Really clears it up."

I wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic, but it was much better than being physically removed from her evil glare. Suddenly I foreshadowed her turning into Medusa, the famed snake charmer that turned one into stone after one looking at her eyes.

Okay. So maybe that didn't happen.

"Now, thirty laps around the school." she said. "After that you can go to class."

* * *

**Author's Note:**I have no idea why I replaced Mikan with Mayuko. Maybe it's because Mayuko has a better sound... and yes. It's not Inui's birthday, but it was two days ago... please tell me what you think about it!


End file.
